


I am no summer friend

by LiveOakWithMoss



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cousin Incest, Curufin being unexpected, Explicit Sexual Content, Illustrated, M/M, Power Play, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-17
Updated: 2015-08-17
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:00:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4562019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LiveOakWithMoss/pseuds/LiveOakWithMoss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Take counsel, sever from my lot your lot,</i><br/>Dwell in your pleasant places, hoard your gold<br/>Curufin commands.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I am no summer friend

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cygnete](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cygnete/gifts).



> 0\. Written as a birthday gift for my very wonderful, beautiful, talented and much beloved Silje. it was also written inspired by a sketch she'd done ages ago - and which is now included as part of the fic!  
> 1\. This adds to the month of Finrod/Curufin I seem to be posting, which seems appropriate given that it is also your month ;) WIFE’S BDAY MEANS AUGUST==HER OTP MONTH, BE TOLD, WORLD.

“I have to say that while I find your language overly flowery in this section – I suppose that’s no surprise, knowing you – your point is relatively well-made. When you consider the implications of the Second Born on the – ” Curufin tried to turn the page of the book and found his arm was immobilized. “Move, Ingoldo. The implications for the – for the…” He tugged at his arm again. "Are you listening to a word I’m saying?” He finally looked over.

Finrod was curled against him, fast asleep. His head rested on Curufin’s shoulder, his golden hair loose over his bare back. He had laid one arm over Curufin’s waist, and had twined their legs together. Curufin stared at him for a moment, then carefully pulled his arm out from under his cousin. Finrod shifted slightly, and sighed in his sleep, and Curufin stilled. Finrod nestled his head against Curufin’s chest once again, and almost without thinking about it, Curufin let his now free arm settle over Finrod’s shoulders – it was simply the most comfortable position given his cousin’s weight against his side, he told himself, but his fingers twined a little too easily into Finrod’s hair.

He coughed, and turned his attention back to the book, holding it open with one hand while he tried to focus on the words, rather than the profound sense of relaxation filling him. He could almost see Celegorm’s expression of deep skepticism at the scene, and hear his brother’s mocking words echoing in his imagination. _‘Is this too part of the plan, brother? Clasping Findaráto to your breast like a newborn lamb, how precious. I should leave you two_ lovers _to your canoodling.’_ The words rang so clear in his mind that he almost flinched and pulled free, but at that moment Finrod rolled over, nuzzling sleepily against Curufin’s skin. Curufin stilled at the brush of Finrod’s lips, and once again, almost unwittingly, felt himself relax at the touch.

_Damn._

He wasn’t sure if he resented or was troubled by the fact that he increasingly took as much pleasure in sharing Finrod’s company as he did in Finrod’s body. He chose not to examine it too closely.

“What were you saying?” came Finrod’s drowsy voice. “Something about how you don’t like my writing style? I’m sorry I drifted off,” he yawned against Curufin’s shoulder, “but we should really do the reading before the…other things. You quite wore me out.”

“I find you tiresome as well,” said Curufin automatically, but without rancor. “Hush. Go back to sleep.”

“Mmm.” Finrod’s voice was just a murmur. “If it is so ordered…”

“It is.”

“You know your every wish is my command.”

Curufin snorted. “If only.”

Finrod half raised his head, sleep apparently forgotten. “Oh yes? What sort of orders would you give me if I obeyed them all?”

Curufin didn’t look away from the book. “Give me and my brother control of Nargothrond.”

“Oooh, how terribly unoriginal.”

Curufin twisted the hand he had tangled in Finrod’s hair, half caress, half rebuke. “Get rid of that bizarre collection of Second Born artifacts you keep in your wardrobe.”

Finrod let his head be tugged back on Curufin’s shoulder. “Never. I’d yield my crown sooner.”

“And yet you don’t.” Curufin laid his book down and reached over with his free hand to run a finger against Finrod’s lips.

Finrod parted his lips slightly, arching his neck. “I live to disappoint you. What else?”

Curufin bent down to nuzzle at his throat for a moment before releasing him. “Fire that tiresome and endlessly lurking guard of yours.”

“Who, Edrahil?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll fire mine if you fire yours.”

Curufin smirked as Finrod turned against him, sliding their bodies together. “You do not get to choose just one of us. With one, you get the other.”

“How suggestive. Is this true in all things?” Finrod’s fingers wandered down Curufin’s chest, and he fought to keep from shivering pleasurably.

“Sometimes.” He half closed his eyes as Finrod’s hand slid lower. “But not, I think, in all.”

“How very fortunate for me.”

Conversation petered out after that, the silence only broken by brief gasps and other, subtler noises. After a while, Finrod sat back from where he was now straddling Curufin’s waist, releasing his hands from where they had been cupped around Curufin’s face as he kissed him. He stretched ostentatiously, and Curufin, despite the eager pound of his heart and the grip he had on Finrod’s thighs, rolled his eyes. “Stop flaunting.”

Finrod smiled down at him. “You haven’t told me what else you would do were I yours to command.”

“You _are_ mine to command,” said Curufin roughly, winding Finrod’s hair around his hand and tugging him down so their lips almost brushed again. “You _are_ mine,” he said again, quietly, not quite in a growl.

“You wish,” whispered Finrod, and kissed him once more.

 

* * *

 

Two nights later, Finrod found himself kicked from a deep and satisfied sleep. He pushed himself upright, disoriented, and looked across the bed at his companion. He was quite sure he’d fallen asleep with his head tucked against Curufin’s bare shoulder and his nose buried in Curufin’s loose hair, but now Curufin was sitting upright, legs folded, dressed in one of Finrod’s robes. Finrod had never seen Curufin in periwinkle blue before, but he decided he liked it for how it softened Curufin’s sharp features and lightened his eyes. He tilted his head and reached out to unravel a strand of hair from Curufin’s neat braid, but Curufin flicked it out of his reach.

“Stop that. I need you to listen up.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?” Finrod yawned and pulled himself up against the headboard, carelessly conscious of his nudity and the way his long hair draped over his chest and spilled all the way down to his thighs.

Curufin spared him a disinterested glance, and Finrod narrowed his eyes, annoyed, before remembering that Curufin’s indifference was as studied as his own apparently effortless arrangement against the pillows. Nevertheless, the scroll in Curufin’s hands, and – oh, Eru, was that a quill? – indicated that Curufin was not interested in their usual games. He sighed and sat up straight, tying his hair into a messy knot and letting his shoulders slouch. From the look of Curufin’s mouth, one lip caught thoughtfully between his teeth, and the furrow between his brows, Curufin was in a businesslike mood, and Finrod braced himself.

“Yes,” said Curufin thoughtfully, “ ‘Bossy’. That is it exactly.”

“I’m sorry?”

“You are forgiven. Do not think I have forgotten your promise of two nights past. After you broke the rules entirely by rejecting my first three suggestions, and then sidetracked me from the enterprise altogether with your unashamed harlotry – ”

“That’s a new one,” said Finrod. “I’m adding it to the list.”

“I am certain I’ve called you an unashamed harlot before. At any rate, I am willing to resume the unpardonably delayed challenge now, especially since I have spent some time thinking on the matter. First off – ”

“Curvo.”

“ – it seems you will renege on any sort of administrative or institutional demands, so I shall not hold out hope for those.” Curufin drew four decisive slashes across his scroll. “Therefore, I have narrowed it down to the carnal, which I suspect was your intent from the beginning, given, as established, your unashamed harlotry.”

“ _Curvo_.” Finrod leaned forward and tried to look at the scroll, while simultaneously glancing at the way Curufin’s bare chest was pleasingly accented by the dramatic cut of the robe. “What _are_ you talking about?”

Curufin leveled a silver glance at him that, as always, set delicious apprehension uncurling in Finrod’s belly. “I am talking about how I wish to command you.” His voice went low at the end of the sentence, and Finrod shivered, suddenly chilled. There was something of Fëanor in him, in that moment, and Finrod was not sure that he liked how it stirred him. He plucked unconsciously at his throat, a nervous habit he had picked up from his father, and at the sight, Curufin’s eyes blazed.

“ _Yes_ ,” he whispered.

“Yes?”

“You dared me,” Curufin said, his voice at once smooth and somehow less controlled than usual, “to command you to do as I wish. I have thought about what I wish of you for two days now, turning it over in my mind. I have even asked my brother for advice.”

“You _what_?”

“That was a joke,” said Curufin, but the glint in his eyes made Finrod wonder which was the lie. Curufin laid the scroll face down on the bedside table and smacked Finrod’s hand away when he reached for it. “Pay attention, Felagund.”

“Who says my offer has not expired?” Finrod’s eyes went back to the scroll and he wondered, briefly, at the four scratched off items.

“We had, if not a hand shake agreement, something of equivalent binding physicality. And you have not upheld your end of the contract.”

“Contract? Ai, Elbereth, Curufinwë. You take something I say while in bed with you to be a contract? That is hardly of legal merit; I’m sure your fourth brother would back me up on this. And if I am not upholding my end, what, then, is your end?”

“My end,” said Curufin, and he smiled, slowly, “is to provide you with instructions on how best to carry out my pleasure."

Once again, his voice went low, and carried on it a cadence of remembered power. Once again, Finrod felt himself stir, and reached out for Curufin, unwittingly drawn. This time, Curufin allowed Finrod to touch him.

“Well,” said Finrod softly. “What is your pleasure then, my dear?”

 

* * *

 

Curufin drew in a deep, even breath, his hands settling in, but not grasping, Finrod’s hair. Finrod, on his knees, suspected his control was so tightly wound that when it snapped, he would be all the more wild for it. The thought pleased him, and he hummed in the back of his throat as he ran his tongue languorously down Curufin’s shaft to close his lips at the base.

Curufin whispered a curse, but didn’t close his eyes, still staring hungrily down at him, the fingers of one hand starting to twist into Finrod’s hair. Finrod slipped one hand from Curufin’s hip to reach between his own legs, where his own arousal was growing as Curufin thrust shallowly into his mouth, but Curufin murmured, “No.”

Finrod drew in a long breath through his nose, and then deliberately replaced his hand on Curufin’s hip, pushing the blue robe out of the way. Its sash finally came undone, and the robe parted over Curufin’s chest. Finrod reached up to drag nails down Curufin’s hard belly, feeling the skin shiver under his touch. With his other hand he reached back to grasp teasingly at Curufin’s buttocks, and Curufin bit his lip hard enough to draw blood, but not enough to muffle his moan. Finrod chuckled, knowing how the sensation would travel up Curufin’s cock, and this time Curufin’s fingers clenched tight enough in his hair to pull strands loose. Finrod swirled his tongue around the head of Curufin’s cock, knowing that he could bring him off like this, but Curufin’s rough voice halted him.

“Wait.”

“Yes?” murmured Finrod, pulling back and letting his breath waft against Curufin’s length.

“We are not done yet. Get on the bed, and undo your hair.”

 

-

 

Finrod shook his hair free and spread himself back against the pillows, parting his legs, but Curufin clicked his tongue, shaking his head.

“Not like that.”

Finrod cocked his head. “No? Would you prefer me on all fours, then? Or tied to the–”

“Neither,” said Curufin, and pushed the robe from his shoulders so that he stood entirely naked before the bed. Finrod’s throat went dry at the sight.

“What is your pleasure, then, Curufinwë?”

“It is my pleasure,” said Curufin, and tilted his chin, his eyes very bright. “That you take me.”

“This is not what I expected,” whispered Finrod, some time later, one arm locked around Curufin’s waist as he moved into him from behind. “When you said you wished to command me…I expected various methods of you claiming me…”

“You are a fool,” said Curufin, sharp as ever, even when he was clinging to Finrod’s arm so tightly his nails left marks. “If you think that I cannot claim you just as easily from below as above. Power does not care whence it is wielded.”

“That has not been your opinion in the past,” murmured Finrod, pressing a kiss to Curufin’s neck and rolling his hips at the same time. “Always have you sought to prove your dominance by taking me, and never once did you allow me between your thighs.”

“You give your insight too much credit.” Curufin pressed himself back against the cradle of Finrod’s pelvis, and Finrod groaned. “You know nothing of my opinion, Felagund. You know nothing of my mind.”

“That is a lie and you know it.” Finrod grasped Curufin’s cock and began to stroke languidly but steadily, moving at the pace he knew would undo him. “I know more of your mind than you would ever admit.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that I know exactly how much of my mind you see?” Curufin’s head dropped back, and Finrod could see his smile. “Has it ever occurred to you that I have been very careful in what I ‘unintentionally’ let slip?”

“Of course it has. I _know_ you.”

“We’re getting off topic,” said Curufin musingly. “And you are forgetting that I am in command here. Withdraw your hand from me, and pull back. I wish to watch you as you fuck me.” He spoke the word with slow relish. “And I wish for something else as well.”

“Anything,” said Finrod, with sharp-edged obedience, and gave Curufin’s cock one last teasing stroke before pulling back. He caught Curufin’s jaw and kissed him swiftly, before Curufin could speak again. “I am yours to command.”

 

* * *

 

His body aching but content, Finrod stretched out at Curufin’s side, and laid his head on Curufin’s shoulder. After a moment, he felt Curufin’s hand come up and stroke gently through his hair.

“Are you satisfied with my challenge?” Finrod whispered, touching his lips to Curufin’s breast. “Are you satisfied with my obedience?”

“Never.” But Curufin’s touch was almost tender as he ran his fingers through Finrod’s hair and then let them come to rest on his shoulder blade.

“You wouldn’t be you if you were,” Finrod agreed, his fingers playing over Curufin’s bare chest, watching the flush recede from it. He let his fingers trace upwards to Curufin’s collarbone. “You wouldn’t be my Curvo if you allowed yourself to be satisfied.” He let the epithet hang in the air; a declaration, a challenge.

“No,” Curufin said, and he turned his head to press his lips to Finrod’s forehead, not quite a kiss. “No, I wouldn’t be.”

Finrod’s wandering fingers found their source, and tangled in the gems of the Nauglamír at Curufin’s throat. “You are mine,” he whispered, and Curufin spoke not a word of confirmation nor denial.  

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> 2\. Title from Christina Rossetti.


End file.
